


A Friend Indeed

by eyemeohmy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Gen, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friends stick up for friends.</p><p>Or maybe Whirl's just feeling really bored and charitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend Indeed

**Author's Note:**

> Just part of something I was writing but in the end, like many other things, just gave up on. But, hey. Sorry if this is OOC or anything. I KNOW, I KNOW - people usually avoid fics if there's an apology for OOCness, buuut I can't help it. :T

"Ugh, do you smell that?"

"Yeah. It’s like mildew and paint, right? Something rotten."

Ambulon frowned as the two mechs sitting behind him cackled obnoxiously. What were they? Only a vorn old? Though Ambulon supposed he should have known better. Swerve’s bar tended to attract some of the more… colorful crew members on board. One reason the medic avoided the place like the plague (he’d laugh, but…), even though there’d been a number of occasions where he craved high grade. He finally caves, and this is what he gets…?

Ambulon gazed into his cube of engex. Still. One would think Ambulon would be used to it by now. There was always going to be at least one person in a group who would single him out. Who would always hate or be glad to remind him of his past. Pharma had been quite fond of this, in fact; though he hardly ever said anything, the way he acted around and treated Ambulon most of the time spoke volumes. The former Decepticon had gotten used to it quickly; it was to be expected, after all.

Maybe it was the fact these two were simply so damn _juvenile_ that bugged Ambulon. “Smells like something rotten", really? _Really?_ Was that the best they could do? Ambulon almost wanted to turn around and berate them for their lack of imagination. Yet… No. Best to just let them have their fun; they seemed the type with short attention spans. They’d turn their taunting and energy on someone or something else soon enough.

"Hey, peely."

Ambulon grunted at the hard slap to his back, nearly causing the cube to tumble from his hand.

Well, seemed he had been wrong about their moving on.

Ambulon nonetheless turned in his seat, regarding the two sneering mechs with a blank expression and shutter of his optics. “Can I help you?" he asked. He would have inquired if it was in regards to the ugly scar across the blue mech’s face, but no. No. Best to be above the bullies.

"Yeah, maybe you can," the yellow mech sneered. He held out his glass. “You got some of yer paint peels in my drink."

Ambulon blinked again. Looked into the energon. No flecks of paint, nothing. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken," he said, and couldn’t help but add, “maybe you should consider getting your optics checked?"

The blue mech seemed more taken aback than his friend. Yellow just smirked. “Look harder," he said. He picked a loose chip of paint off Ambulon’s shoulder, dropped it in his cube, then showed it to the medic again.

Ambulon frowned. He glowered tiredly at Yellow. " _Really_?"

"Methinks you owe me a drink," Yellow said.

Ambulon just turned away.

Yellow growled. “You hear me, ‘Con?" Ah, there it was; no more disguising the hatred. Ambulon just kept to himself, refused to address the two mechs. Yellow glared back at his friend, Blue, who nodded.

Ambulon grunted as energon was suddenly thrown in his face. The two mechs cackled as he slowly sat upright, covered in the thick, purple liquid.  
"Just givin’ you your paint back!" Yellow guffawed, tossing aside his empty cube.

Ambulon shuttered his optics, wiped them clean. He said nothing as he brushed some of the engex from off his throat and shoulder. He went to leave, but suddenly Blue’s heavy hand was shoving him back into his seat, hard. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘til you apologize to my friend here," he stated.

Ambulon glanced back at Yellow, smug grin on his face. Waiting for the medic to castrate his pride. Thank God most of the bar was empty, and Swerve seemed busy elsewhere. Ambulon looked around the small bar, to Blue, back to Yellow. He sniffed and wiped more energon from off his pallor faceplates.

Something witty was on his tongue. Something biting and harsh and sure enough to get his ass kicked. Ambulon opened his mouth—

"Now, now, now. Is that any way to waste good energon?"

The massive shadow of the Autobot eclipsed the smaller mechs. They turned, optics widening up at Whirl. His single optic glowing brightly, betraying no emotion, as usual. “Don’t you think you ought to apologize, hmm?" Whirl suggested, ducking his head and getting face to face with Yellow. Much, much too close, and Yellow winced at the invasion of privacy. Whirl clicked his talons at the energon now puddling at Ambulon’s feet. “Better yet, why don’t you clean it up?"

"Back off, Whirl," Blue growled. “This ain’t got nothin’ to do with you!"

Whirl’s vibrant optic turned to the second mech. “It does when you’re ruining the good mood," he insisted. “Can’t get some peace and quiet with you glitches making so much noise."

Yellow snorted. “C’mon," he said to his friend, “let’s just go—"

Suddenly, Whirl’s claws were clamped around Yellow’s shoulder, jerking him back and nearly off his feet. “Hey, now," the ‘copter said, “didn’t I tell you to clean up your mess?"

Yellow’s optics burned resentment. “Let me go," he snarled, “you ugly, cycloptic s—"

Ambulon nearly fell from his chair as Whirl suddenly slammed Yellow down on the ground. Blue jumped to attack the assailant, but Whirl easily reached out, clapped pincers around Blue’s throat and held him up and off the ground. Blue growled and writhed, trying to break free. Before Yellow could stand, Whirl stomped one massive foot into the back of his head, smashing his face into the spilled energon.

"C’mon!" Whirl laughed, optic flashing. “Lick it up!" He started grinding his foot into Yellow’s head, ignoring the pained cries.

Ambulon, however, could not. “Whirl!" he shouted, bolting to his feet. The one-eyed Autobot ignored him, digging his heel into Yellow’s neck. “Stop it! Let them go!"

Whirl snickered. “Nah," he said, and started shaking Blue in his claws like a ragdoll, “I wanna see this. I was gettin’ bored."

"This is not helping!" Ambulon snapped. “You’re hurting them!"

Whirl looked up at the medic, stared unblinking. “Well, no scrap, doc," he said, and made a sound akin to a snort. He threw Blue down on top of Yellow. “Here, help your friend out!"

"Whirl!" Ambulon cried, and now the Autobot was kicking them both. Without thinking, Ambulon darted forward, throwing his weight against Whirl’s torso. " _Stop_!"

The one-eyed Autobot grunted as he stumbled, his back hitting and knocking over a table. Ambulon drew back and quickly grabbed a wrist, pulling Whirl to a stand before he could topple over. Once Whirl re-calibrated himself, he yanked his hand free, and his yellow optic was burning fierce at the medic.

"Oh," Whirl hummed, “doc. That was a _baaaaad_ idea."

Ambulon blinked and stepped back. Whirl moved in, shoulders haunched. “I don’t want to fight, Whirl," Ambulon insisted, hands raised. He swallowed as the former Wrecker swooped in much too close.

"This ain’t no way to treat the mech tryin’ to help you out," Whirl said, and his voice was dark and heavy. Ambulon stopped before he could trip over the Autobots on the floor. Whirl stretched out his long neck, and the medic could feel the heat of his single optic on his faceplates. “I don’t usually stick my neck out for others, yanno. Not my style, unless I’m really bored, or… Well. You don’t need to worry about the second reason. But I go an’ save you from one Pituva embarrassing aft-whoopin’, and this is how you repay me?"

Ambulon tried to remain calm. “Please. I don’t want to fight you."

"Who said anythin’ about fightin’, doc?" Whirl asked, tilting his head. His optic shuttered. “A fight would imply something two-sided. You’re not much of a challenge, sorry to say."

Ambulon frowned. “I am grateful for… for your intentions," he said, carefully. “I really am. And, sure, I think these two glitches could use a little discipline. But not like this." He sighed. “You’d only stoop to their level, Whirl. Don’t."

Whirl chuckled. “To _their_ level?" He rasped claws against his chest, a soft _click-click-click_. “Do you even know what level I’m _on_ , doc?"

"You know what I’m saying, Whirl."

Whirl was quiet, staring at Ambulon. Ambulon’s gaze did not waver. The two on the floor were too scared to move, looking up at Whirl with pleading eyes. Whirl turned from them, back to the medic. He wouldn’t move, even if it meant the one-eyed Autobot having to plow through him.

After one intense moment of silence, Whirl stepped back. “Suit yerself, doc," he said, and reached out. The medic stiffened as Whirl picked a stray curl of paint off his shoulder, flicked it at the ‘bots on the ground. “I’m in no mood for the brig tonight, anyway."

Ambulon forced himself not to smile in relief. “Thank you," he murmured.

Whirl stood upright. “Next time," he said, “you’re on your own, doc." He turned, then, skulking out of the bar.

Ambulon waited a second before glaring at Yellow and Blue. “You _should_ lick it up," he scowled, then left as well.


End file.
